Love conquers all
I used to believe that
Down to my bones I believed it.
But it doesn’t.
The hand of a man now dead can rip it away.
And still I believed.
I still believed and fell again
And while we lasted for a while it ended
And I tell myself it’s because we were never that permanent love. It was just lust mixed with lonely and it wasn’t real.
And I fell again, like a meteorite crashing to earth
I fell hard
I fell fast
And though I exist in her heart
It never became
And I say that’s not loves fault, she wasn’t the right person. If the person is not ready there isn’t anything love can do.
And I still believed
And I fell again
And I thought this is it
What a great meet cute, we fell in love at the same time with each other’s minds
But the realer it seemed the more distant it got
Until finally, it was over, not once but twice
Because I’m nothing, if not gullible.
And I quieted and I healed
And I flirted but tried so hard not to fall
Until she pushed me off the ledge
But even then, it was just fantasy.
A thing of desire and maybe and what if that quickly paled as the reality of right there and so unhappy but I can’t touch you and make it better drove home the point
And then a butterfly flitted through my window
And whispered an idea, a what if that turned to honesty and honor and a love so deep I’m drowning in it
And as always, beyond reach
And the realization, that love does not conquer all.
It conquers me but now my heart is a corpse strewn field. Littered with dying hopes.
And the frightening idea, that it all might have been in vain
Your voice is a deep pool of laughter and bright
I’d spend my days crafting words for you to speak
they create shivers down my spine
And wake desires with but a innocent turn of phrase
Life is but a series of moments strung together by your presence and the undying hope of forever
In this life or I will find you in the next
We belong to each other
Surrounded by hearts in mending
Gold seams in broken veins
Pain and pleasure in the taking
But gathered her gently
Woken him fiercely
And all of us joined
In laughter, in lust, in desire
All truths spoken and laid bare
Emotions riding the air
Love seeking and binding
A hope everlasting
He sits out of reach in his silence
I need his touch
Perhaps his compliance should he be willing
To make him mine
To possess him
Enslave him with desire
Taste him full and soft
To calm his fears
To sing songs and kiss
Hold hands in defiance and trust
I’m in a position now where I want so much to be holding in my arms the ones that I love. But I know that is either a distant future or a impossibility and I have to deal with that.
In a way it’s like a breakup but without the constant questioning and self recriminations. In this case I know the reasons. I just lament them.
Right now, I’m sad often and I don’t want to be but I also don’t know how to stop it my self.
I’ve been incredibly lucky to meet extraordinary people through my blog and though some hurt me, I still feel incredibly fortunate to have the chance to be with people who meet my mind first rather than the crucible of a dating site or a munch or something. Because, I’m not great at those.
Let’s be clear. I’m weird. I have odd notions and hobbies. I have strange views and see things differently. What the majority find interesting, I find mostly a nuisance. I point this out, not to set myself apart, but to demonstrate that I feel as if I’m a outsider.
When you add in BDSM and a preference for strong submissives, I find I’ve narrowed my interests perhaps too narrowly.
I’d love to say that such a narrow focus means that I find my way clear but really I’m all a muddle.
I scare people away because I’m intense and always seek clarity. Not because I am meek but because I can have a effect where I bowl someone over.
But then I just melt if someone says, “Yes, Sir,” and means it.
I don’t know where forward is. Or if I need to heal first. Or if I just need someone I love to look me in the eyes and say “Yes, I choose you” and mean it down to their bones.
You have to give yourself over to love. I know thats crazy. I know that invites pain and death and the dissolution of the self. But you must. Not in some religious sense unless we mean as a philosophy of hope for each other. Only through love can humanity save itself. And I don’t mean love as some cold thing but let respect, hope, desire, and the elevation of others inform your choices. And if you find yourself with someone you love, who loves you, and if all parties enthusiastically consents, express that love physically. Even if that’s just being in the same room. Or holding hands. Or kissing. Or the whole panoply. Love is no cold thing. It is of heat, of flame.
Help and dictate not how that help is used. If you give money to someone, accept that they know their own needs and let go any notion that you have the right to dictate. Give freely and without expectation of reciprocity. Let love be your guide.
This is not to say that you should endanger yourself, just that we all hide a bit more than may be needful.
And I’m definitely not saying that a person who takes in the belief that they act in love are to be forgiven. In my belief system, if you take without consent, then you must suffer the dire and vicious consequences.
I say only that love should be closer to a guiding principle than we generally let it be.
I have hope.
I’ve actually been very lucky this last year. I’ve had some amazing opportunities and, though they didn’t work out, they have made me realize that I am someone who others value and want to spend time with. I’ve spent a good portion of my life feeling like a failure. That by my failure to see the future, I don’t deserve to have a future. It’s been a long road from that to now. And I’m really a better person for that journey. I’ve learned how to work through and cope with major heartbreak. I have found love for some and with some amazing people who I hope will be in my life as I journey forward. I’m still looking for my romantic partner or partners and know that there is a chance when I thought it would never be possible.
Half cast shadows shift in the broken light
Stop motion shades flit from open doorway to open doorway
Huge rusted hinges showing where vault doors once hung
Fear hangs like grease in the soft twilight air
The man shaped thing strides through his city
Draped in the cloth of forgotten night
Wet air bubbles and shifts like touching a hot skillet
The doors are open
The cane by his side bends and shifts
Once a staff, once a blade
But his city lays barren
Patches of green
turned brown and wilted
dot the hanging gardens
A testament to what was and what may be
In this forgotten city of memory